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The snow had picked up by the time Lauren got back to her dorm room. Whittier was the older of the dormitories that dotted the campus. It also had as the reputation as the more run down and less kept, partly due to its remote location. While the exterior, a vibrant white with red accents to better match the colors of the school, the interior still bore the telltale signs of its age. The hallways were drafty. The wind whipped and whirled through the building. Despite having two elevators, neither worked due to a fire that had occurred in the 1970s. Much like Mack, Lauren lived on the third floor but in the middle of the hall instead of on the end. But unlike Mack, Lauren was fortunate enough to have no need for a roommate. That had been a special request made by her parents when she'd enrolled at the school. She was grateful to them for that.Once inside her room, she clapped her paws together, and the lamps came on instantly. Her room was smaller than Mack's, with the furniture consisting of a desk, a single bed, a chair, and a corkboard. The remaining space was occupied by her TV stand, where she had set up her Playstation 4 and small flat screen television. The walls of the dorm were decorated by posters from various Japanese animes such as Ouran Host Club,Gundam Wing, and a couple others to help brighten the off-white depression.

The cat fell face first on her bed, landing on her pillow and letting out a wail of frustration. She rolled over on her side, her eyes glancing upwards to her desk. There, her computer sang its same song of mechanical whirs deep within its bowels; several books on Francis Bacon were stacked by it, waiting for Lauren's attention. She refused to give any.

Instead, she reached over towards her iPod; the tiny player sprang to life as the cat placed her wraparound earphones around her head.

She cycled through the "B" section and selected the Beach Boys, putting Pet Sounds on tap. The opening guitar chords of "Wouldn't It Be Nice" drifted through her head. She laid on her back, her eyes darting at the ceiling, listening to the youthful Brian Wilson's wondrous dreams and hopes of a perfectly harmonious love.

Her heart was still aflutter, with her thoughts turning back towards Mack.

The question was why--why couldn't she just turn away to someone else? Why did she have to tie such strong her emotions to her best friend?

Why did she have feelings for Mack?

Is it cause...she was the first real friend I ever had? Lauren thought. Mack had so much confidence, such humor; no question about it, Mack was awesome. In the four years that they had known each other, Mack had surrounded herself with many people, some kind, some cold, but generally good people.

But Mack had always found time for Lauren. She had dated and had confided in Lauren some of her secrets about her relationships. Lauren remembered many of their faces, even if the names escaped her. And Mack would always apologize each time, feeling sheepish for babbling on about her problems instead of listening to Lauren's, and like that would turn her spotlight back towards the cat.

Lauren would stammer, blush, and make excuses when the question of her own relationship status came up. The lack of which she tried to hide as best she could. "Oh...you know," she had said, letting it trail off from there. Mack would pry and prod a little bit, and Lauren would say something, making up a name of someone she claimed to be seeing. Mack's eyes would light up and she would talk about planning double dates. This lead Lauren to again hem and haw at the prospect before talking Mack out of the idea. She would explain that her date was shy and not ready to do all the "cute couple stuff" yet.

And I would feel bad because I hate lying, especially to your face.

Lauren sat up and on the edge of her bed. Tears began to stream down her cheeks, droplets of which clung to her whiskers. She began to stroke her tail, scritching through it with her claws.

She resisted the urge to pick up her phone and call Mack. She turned off her iPod and flung the earphones to the other side of the bed. She had her phone ready and waiting in her paw. She wanted to call her, and talk to her; hear her voice, and just explain why she was acting so weird when she left.

I owe her that much. I don't want her thinking it was something she did.

Lauren started punching in digits, stopping when the phone became heavy in her hand and she weighed it back down to her desk.

Besides, what the hell would I even tell her? "Hey I'm in love with you and have been since freshman year"? Lauren shook her head, admitting how silly the conversation would probably be. She chuckled lightly, returning to rub her tail as she held it to her chest.

Lauren didn't know many gay students on campus. She didn't know any, in all honesty. Sure, she was familiar with seeing gays and lesbians in the movies and on TV; she watched Glee and had binged on The L Word_with Mack during spring break their sophomore year. Mack loved the movies of John Waters and they both went to the annual showing of _The Rocky Horror Picture Show at the student lounge dressed in full costume. But as far as interacting with other gay and lesbian students?

Not a lot of evidence to go off of.

Even her loner attitude and inability to fit in had logical explanations: an introvert and prone to sensitivity, Lauren chose solitude to the pain of being around other people. When she was old enough to understand, her parents lectured her for hours about what she'd endure when she started public school.

What they had neglected to tell her was just how bad those twelve years in public school would be. Or how cruel the other children would be to her.

She could still feel the stings from her tail being tugged on.

The spitballs to the back of her head.

Or the time that a group of older girls had jumped her on her way home, kicking her in the stomach and ribs. Lauren felt lucky she didn't have to go to the hospital. However, she never told anyone who it was that jumped her, for fear they would do it again and much worse in the future.

It was just easier to be alone than trust anyone, Lauren reasoned. Coming to college, and being away from the safety net her parents provided, was nerve-wracking enough. Opening up, finding friends...Lauren had felt that she would be better off getting declawed, the latter hurting less and leaving less visible scar tissue.

And that day at freshman orientation, when Mack had sat down next to her, had changed everything. The mouse still had her braces on her teeth, but that didn't stop her from flashing Lauren her brightest, most trusting smile. She had extended her paw, offering it in friendship to the cat.

"Pleasure to meet you Lauren Robinson! My name's Christine, but everyone calls me Mack," she had said, disregarding Lauren's skin twitching, or how her ears had folded backwards.

"H-how do you know my name?" Lauren had asked, nervous tension bubbling in her throat. But Mack giggled, and pointed to Lauren's nametag, pinned prominent and proper to the lapel of the flannel shirt she was wearing.

"Elementary my dear Watson!" answered Mack in a hoary British accent, laughter beginning to bubble up from her throat. Lauren's ears turned pink from blushing as she couldn't help but giggle and grin. It would not be the last time that she would, with Mack being the welcome source for any laughter and joy that she found.

She continued to rub her tail, and heaved a sigh out from her chest as she came back to the present. Her heart yearned for the warmth that Mack's smile brought. It was the same smile that brought Lauren comfort whenever she was teased and made fun of, called a "freak" by the other students on campus. The warmth of Mack's arms wrapped around her was soothing, calming the discourse of the chaos running through her head. The jeers had stopped, for the most part--but Mack never stopped wanting to have Lauren hang around.

She breathed a heavy sigh and laid back down on her bed. She sniffed the air, and then her fur. Mack's distinctive scent still clung to her, lingering long after she'd left Mack's dorm. She inhaled deeply, drinking in all of Mack's aromas. She pulled the covers over herself, and started drifting.

#

The dream had seemed real.

Lauren was in her class--Abstract Art Appreciation--and in the middle of doing her powerpoint report on Francis Bacon. She was cycling through the artist's postwar output, which had consisted of him painting the Pope's in grotesque grimaces, when her eyes scanned the classroom. She saw none of her classmates, and Professor Harrison had disappeared as well.

But seated in the middle of the room was Mack, her dark hair pulled back and tied in a ponytail, which rested on her shoulder. Her ears were blushing. When she adjusted in her seat Lauren saw that she was naked. Her pale fur and pink nipples glistened and shone in the fluorescent lights of the classroom. Lauren tried to look away, and bit her lower lip. She looked down, and noticed that she, too, wore no clothes.

Mack rose slowly from her chair and sauntered towards the cat, her slender hips swaying and rocking with every step, until she was just a few feet away from Lauren.

"Do you like...what you see?" Mack asked, caressing her breasts with her paws. Lauren's eyes followed, traveling with her through the valley and canyons, as Mack teased her hardening nipples. Lauren nodded, unable to articulate her words. She scanned the athletic surface of the mouse's abdomen, her eyes coming to rest along the inviting V-shape of her sex. She desired the entrance, hoping they would open for her.

Mack giggled and grabbed Lauren's paw, putting her palm on her breast. Lauren's heart beat fast. It was the same feeling, the same warmth, that she desired. She felt the thump of Mack's heart under her paw, and her body trembled at the touch. It was like an electric jolt surging through her.

"Would you...like me to touch you too?" Mack asked, her voice soft and lilting. She leaned in closer, whispering the words into Lauren's perked ear. Lauren nodded her head in slow motion. The cat closed her eyes and leaned her head back. Her heart thudded inside of her chest, excited in anticipation of Mack's touch. She felt her body shudder and a sigh pass through her lips, as Mack's hands danced down Lauren's body.

The sound of her alarm tore through Lauren's brain. She jerked awake. She looked around, taking a moment to return to the living. She was still in her dorm room, her eyes scanning the water stains in the ceiling above her. Her eyes darted out towards her window. The sun was creeping up. Dawn was near.

Her heart was still pounding hard and fast in her chest. She was panting, the residues of the dream lingering through her brain. Lauren looked down at the bristles of her fun, still standing on end. Her body was still responding to the dream, whatever it all meant in her head.

She sat up to gather her thoughts, swinging her legs over her bed.

Think rationally Lauren. You failed psych courses so you can't rely on that. Clearly you wanted to think about Mack and what she means to you. And maybe, just maybe, you were just having a vivid dream because you fell asleep to Brian Wilson. She bit her paw. Lauren knew that Mack wasn't gay. But because she was trying to rationalize her strong emotions for her friend...was she?

She fell backwards back onto her bed. She turned her head and cast a glance back at her alarm clock. It was still early, a little past six. She heard the birds chirping their usual song outside.

Too early to be having this kind of crisis, Lauren thought. She weighed her options. She could spend another couple hours laying there til her class started. That sounded like the simplest solution. Or she could haul her body down to the communal bath, getting in a quick shower before the other girls poured in.

Lauren sighed again. She gathered her bath towel, shampoo, soap, and loofah in her sundries basket. She wrapped herself in her lavender colored bathrobe and pulled on her jacket and pants.

There were no private showers at Whittier, only a divide between the males and the females. There were never enough shower heads to go around; you had to get up early or were out of luck and had to wait. Only the men's shower had any individual stalls for occupants. The women's had no such luxury; as each shower was open, enabling each woman to see their neighbor in their Biblic glory. It was rare for students to wake early and take advantage of the solitude the dawn hours provided, a realization Lauren had hit on during her second week.

Being the first one to arrive, she turned on the lights, each one coming alive like dominoes falling in place. She looked around, breathing in relief that she was alone. She took a number and entered the baths. Choosing a shower, she undressed and laid her clothes down on the bench against the wall. She took a moment to look at herself in the full body mirror, as the warm water began hitting her body.

Her ginger colored fur was contrasted by darker orange strips that encircled her body. A small patch of red ran up from her pooch to the middle of her chest like a racing stripe. Her chest was buxom, her pink nipples standing erect while she glided her hands across them. The water slid down the middle of her chest and pooled at her feet before going down the drain. Her long tail flopped on the ground, splashing water on her ankles.

The cat soaked in the soothing steam of the water. She felt cleansed, as her mind returned to the dream. The vivid imagery that had danced in front of her mind still felt so real. But it brought up too many questions along with it.

Did she like women? She traced back in her mind for any other evidence. Well, I've never been into too many guys, she thought. But guys haven'tbeen into me so it evens out. She remembered during her junior year there was Peter Clementine and his advances; he was kind, and he was funny. She felt comfortable around him. She remembered they had kissed on a few occasions, which Lauren had felt guilty about. When she talked to him and admitted she did not feel the same way, that had taken a lot of courage to muster. The courage to look the young man in the face and tell the truth.

Courage she got, of course, from Mack.

Mack had tried introducing her to several of her boyfriend's friends. None of them elicited strong emotional responses. As Lauren thought about it, the only reason she ever accepted the invitation to meet these guys was to spend some time with Mack.

And she always paid attention to me, never to her own boyfriend, the cat thought. Mack had never thrown Lauren to her own devices; she made sure the cat was comfortable first, spending as much time as she could to ease her fears and worries. And even when the evening proved to be a strikeout, Mack never seemed upset at Lauren for not trying. "We'll bag 'em next time!" she would say with a booming positivism, putting a hand on Lauren's shoulder for comfort. Just the simple act lifted the feline's spirits, even if the next time was the same as the last.

She supposed if she was gay, what did it mean to have these urges for Mack? Is it the love and kindness she's shown me over the years? Lauren thought. The end of the year was coming. Graduation was approaching in a few short months. Lauren had figured she would head back home and work for her dad before going off to graduate school. Mack hadn't talked about what she would do afterwards, if she had any plans at all.

That knowledge terrified Lauren. She swallowed back the tears edging at the corners of her eyes. She remembered how her mother and father would talk about losing touch with their college friends. They would chuckle at their forgetfulness for the names of their old friends. These were people they had seen countless hours across four years, and spent crazy amounts of time with. Now they were anecdotes, side characters in someone's life story, rather than the important roles they had played in the beginning.

Its foolish to think Mack would involve me in her life after we're done here, she thought.

They would graduate and that would be it. The most she could look forward to would be an email every few months, maybe even an online communication.

She rubbed the honey and milk scented bath soap into a fine lather. She washed along her soft stomach and felt the squishy abdominal muscles of her chubby belly, the soft edge of the loofah grazing past her inner thighs. She felt the lather travel southwards, and shuddered and trembled when the soap reached the nub of her womanhood.

She shook and steadied herself. Her body was still responsive to the dream. In the swirl of the growing steam her mind wandered back towards the lingering image of Mack, her hand resting on her paw, pressed to Mack's chest. Lauren closed her eyes; she could still feel the pulse of Mack's heart between her pads.

She ran the loofah across her chest, feeling her hardening nipple underneath her knuckle while she washed, rubbing a thumb across it. She began pant, and parted her legs. She slid her paws down her abdomen and caressed her inner thighs. Mack's face flashed in her head, repeating the question from her dream.

"Do you like what you see?"

"Yes," Lauren moaned. Her breathing had grown heavy. Her paw teased at the hood of her clitoris. She began to pant even more, her other paw massaging and caressing her breasts while she flicked her bean. The cat began to melt into the fantasy of desire, and inhaled deeply. Her body strained against the building lusty within her. She wished dearly to feel Mack's soft hands touch her sex, placing her delicate fingers along the edges of her quim. She wanted Mack to tease her drooling pink pearl. She wanted Mack to love her.

Lauren licked her muzzle. She was burning up with deleterious desire; her body strained painfully at the swelling emotions. Breathing hard, she slid a finger between her warm cavern, and felt the juices moisten and dampen the palm of her paw. Her thumb flicked against the bean of her clit and her body trembled with the lust that had been building. Thrusting her finger in and out of her crease, the cat's moans came quicker now. The folds of her love were open to her.

"Mack," she said under hushed tones. "Christine...I love you..." Her legs shook with each touch of her paw, increasing with slight ferocity as she hoped for a quick release. "Please," she pleaded to the specters of lust. "Take me."

"Hey is there someone in here?"

The voice tore Lauren away from her fantasy. She stumbled slightly, catching herself against the wall.

"Y-yeah!" she shouted. Her heart pounded in her chest and in her ears. She leaned against the shower wall and steadied her posture, trying to catch her breath. She shut the shower off, the warmth that had been intoxicating to her fantasy now suffocating. The pink inside of her flopped ears began to turn a deep red as the cat blushed.

She heard other voices down the hall, making their way towards the showers. The cat dried herself, still feeling her love flow free down her inner thighs and her legs. She pulled on her clothes near the benches, just as more students began lining to use the bath. She kept herself to the shadows, hoping to go unnoticed.

Back in the safety of her dorm room, Lauren sighed. She laid her sundries down on the floor and threw herself on her bed. She hugged her pillow tight to her chest, to calm her still racing heart. The tension inside of her was at a boiling point. She wanted to claw the edge of her bed, ripping it to shreds. The cat felt her spine arch from anxiety.

She needed freedom. The fire within her insides raged and threatened to savage her, unless she found a resolution. Mack's face kept swimming back into focus, and she did not fight the images this time. She rolled over onto her back, and slid her paw inside her panties, giving herself the long held release.